


Without You I'm Nothing

by Casseopeia



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sexual Abuse, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:22:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29801487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casseopeia/pseuds/Casseopeia
Summary: When Malcolm lies to his captain, Archer uses it to trap him in a sadistic and violent relationship. Unable to see a way out, Malcolm fights to survive his abuse.Hayes has been watching closely and begins to suspect something is wrong. After saving him from Archer, he helps him heal, determined to prove to the traumatized Malcolm that he is still worthy of being loved.
Relationships: J. Hayes/Malcolm Reed, Jonathan Archer/Malcolm Reed
Kudos: 2





	Without You I'm Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> I'm unclean, a libertine  
> And every time you vent your spleen  
> I seem to lose the power of speech
> 
> Placebo

Malcolm had known, almost as soon as he'd done it, that lying to Captain Archer was a terrible mistake. His spell in the brig had only solidified his opinion on the matter and now, sitting in the ready room waiting for the other man to speak, he wishes he could go back and undo the entire thing.

Crewman Daniels' time-travelling abilities, he thinks wryly, would be really useful right about now.

He's watching the captain finish writing a report of some kind. The other man had gestured wordlessly for him to take a seat when he entered the room and Malcolm thinks it's less about the urgency of the work and more a display of power.

He fights the urge to squirm in his seat, anxiety churning his stomach unpleasantly.

Eventually, Archer places the PADD he's been typing on to the side, lacing his fingers in front of him on the desk and fixing Malcolm with a hard stare.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself Lieutenant Reed?"

His voice is quiet and dripping with menace. Malcolm forces himself to hold his gaze.

"Only that I apologise unreservedly for my lapse in judgement, Sir. I understand that my actions have placed Enterprise and her crew at risk and that you will no doubt wish to remove me from your ship."

Archer rises from his seat and moves slowly around the desk towards him. Malcolm gets to his feet uncertainly, his heart rate increasing as Archer steps into his personal space. He steps away reflexively, but the other man doesn't stop and he finds himself backed against the bulkhead.

He notices an odd gleam in his eyes and the smallest trace of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Tell me Malcolm," he says softly, "how much is it _worth_ to you, to remain on Enterprise?"

"I'm sorry Sir?"

Malcolm stalls, his chest tightening, sensing they are heading towards dangerous ground.

"I want to know, what are you prepared to do to...persuade me not to just have you court-martialed?" 

His voice drops even lower and his mouth is inches from Malcolm's ear.

"How far will you go to redeem yourself?" 

He gives an involuntary shudder at the feel of Archer's breath and hears a dark chuckle. This is a side of the captain Malcolm has never seen before and the unpredictability frightens him.

Archer reaches out a hand and trails his fingers slowly down Malcolm's throat. The implication is clear and he feels suddenly dizzy and sick, his skin burning where the other man has touched it.

"It's a high price for a proud man like you, I know." Archer says, his voice taunting.

"Then again, you _are_ in a very _precarious_ position. I can take everything from you, but I'm willing to be generous."

He pauses letting the words hang in the air.

"Are you willing to pay?"

Malcolm closes his eyes, as if this is a nightmare he can wake himself up from. He shudders again in revulsion as Archer's mouth presses against his neck, teeth biting down over his pulse. He draws back slightly.

"I want your answer, Malcolm."

For a moment he's paralysed with panic, the two choices in front of him both filling him with horror. He thinks first of dark hair and strong capable hands. He thinks of the man who has filled his dreams for months. Then he thinks of how hard he worked for this assignment and how delighted his father would be, even now, to see him fail. How much of his life the other man could destroy at just a word.

He swallows hard and raises his eyes to meet Archer's hooded stare.

"I'll pay," he whispers, so quietly he thinks the other man might not have heard.

The hands that begin stripping him of his uniform tell him otherwise.

* * *

Malcolm begins to realise, as time passes, just how much of the benevolent leader Archer presents to the rest of the crew is a brilliantly crafted facade. Only when he's alone with Malcolm does it drop and then he sees the man underneath, who takes sadistic pleasure in the power he now wields over him.

After the first time in his ready room, which leaves Malcolm covered in bruises that he struggles to explain away, Archer doesn't send for him for several weeks. A flicker of hope begins to creep into the back of his mind. He thinks that perhaps the captain only meant to scare him. That he'd been seized by a sudden madness that he now regrets.

Cruelly, Archer leaves it just long enough that Malcolm begins to feel safe again and then summons him to his quarters at the end of his shift. He receives the message early in the morning, specifically he thinks, just to torture him a little more.

He's too distracted, too sick with fear, to concentrate and so he hides away in his office with a stack of reports. None of them are urgent, but it gives him the appearance of being busy. In reality he can barely read the words that swim in front of him.

He goes to the mess hall with Trip on his break, so that no-one will suspect anything is wrong, but finds he can barely swallow his food without choking. Trip looks concerned and Malcolm pleads a lack of appetite. While the other man doesn't appear convinced, he mercifully doesn't push it.

On his way back to the Armoury he passes Hayes, who stops him to ask a question about training sessions for the crew. Malcolm has to ask him to repeat himself more than once and eventually Hayes cocks his head with a frown.

"With all due respect Sir, you don't seem like yourself."

"Sorry, sorry," Malcolm forces a polite smile, "I'm just very busy that's all."

Hayes looks as if he's going to say something further on the matter, but seems to change his mind and excuses himself coolly. Malcolm returns to his office and waits out the rest of his shift in a haze of dread.

He makes his way to Archer's quarters later, feeling as if he is about to face a firing squad. When he arrives, it's clear from the tension in his body that Archer is in a foul mood.

He grips Malcolm painfully by the hair and shoves him up against the wall, knocking the air from his lungs.

"You're late."

"I'm sorry Sir," Malcolm pleads breathlessly.

His body convulses as the first blow lands in his stomach, and his eyes water as the movement causes the other man to pull even harder on his hair. Archer steps away abruptly, leaving Malcolm hunched in pain. His eyes are fixed on the floor and so he has no warning when he suddenly backhands him across the face.

Cowering against the wall, Malcolm watches as Archer goes to the desk and pours some whiskey into a glass, knocking the whole thing back in one gulp, before turning back to him with a sneer.

"What would the crew say if they could see you now?" he taunts softly, grasping Malcolm's chin and tipping his face up, forcing him to meet his eyes.

"Whoring yourself out to me like this."

Malcolm forces down the helpless rage that burns in his chest, but Archer sees it in his eyes clearly enough and his own glitter with malice. His fingers slide softly around his throat before squeezing hard. 

He drags Malcolm down onto the bed, caging him with his larger body and leans down until his mouth is millimetres from his ear, breath sending chills down Malcolm's spine.

"I'm going to break you Malcolm Reed," he whispers.

"And when I'm done, no-one will ever want you again."

His lips find Malcolm's throat and he can't control the hot tears that suddenly spill down his face. Archer just laughs when he notices.

"Go ahead and cry," a spiteful smile twists his lips.

"It won't do you any good."

When he's done with him he still doesn't let him leave, and Malcolm realises the captain intends for him to stay the night, unable to wash away the stain of the other man from his skin.

He barely sleeps and in the morning has to rush to get to his quarters in time to get ready for his shift. He wants to scrub every inch of his body Archer has touched, but there's no time and he goes to his shift feeling hollow and dirty, shame pooling low in his stomach.

Hayes is already waiting to speak to him in the armoury when he rushes in and Malcolm feels his gaze as if it's burning into him, only increasing the disgust for himself he feels spreading throughout his body.

Hayes goes to speak, but falters when he sees his face.

"Lieutenant Reed, I-" he pauses.

"Sir, is everything alright?"

He wants to tell him so badly. He wants the other man to hold him in his arms, safe and warm, the way he always does in Malcolm's dreams. But doing that would put them both in danger and so he lies.

"Fine," Malcolm grits out, "if you don't mind, I have a lot to do today so-"

"Of course." Hayes pauses again.

"I just wanted to go over the training schedule, if you have time."

Malcolm agrees, largely so he can get rid of him as quickly as possible. He's observant and perceptive, and Malcolm can't risk him noticing anything more. When the rest of his staff arrive on shift they quickly pick up on his mood and he notices concerned looks darting between them.

He forces his irritation away, desperate not to draw further attention to himself, and decides to work on some repairs in one of the consoles. It allows him to hide himself away in the crawlspace and he finds the delicate work soothing, taking his mind away from the pain in his body.

* * *

Archer never summons him at the same times, preferring to keep him permanently on edge. Malcolm becomes accustomed to living in a constant state of fear, increasingly withdrawing from his friends and burying himself further and further into the comfort of his work.

He has a blazing row with Trip, when the other man expresses his concern at Malcolm's abrupt change in behaviour and can't even bring himself to regret it. If Trip no longer wants to be around him, it simply leaves one less person who might uncover his sordid secret.

He begins to notice Hayes watching him closely, frequently finding excuses to seek him out. Their exchanges progress from awkward politeness to genuine friendship and despite the fear of discovery, he feels a little thrill every time. Spending time with the other man becomes the one joy that Malcolm finds in his days.

It doesn't escape Archer's attention. He is summoned to his quarters as usual, but when Malcolm gets there the captain's face is ugly with rage.

He's in his face immediately, pushing him back against the wall and fisting a hand in his hair, dragging his head back roughly so Malcolm can't escape looking up at him.

"Do you think I'm stupid _Lieutenant Reed_ ," he snarls, wrenching his head back further.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

Malcolm is bewildered.

"Sir, I don't-"

Archer slams the heel of his hand against the wall next to Malcolm's head and he flinches at the sound.

"Don't lie to me! I've seen the way you look at him." 

Malcolm realises with a lurching feeling that he is talking about Hayes and dithers helplessly; whatever answer he gives risks enraging the other man further. 

Suddenly Archer goes to hit his face and Malcolm's training kicks in, his arms going up instinctively to block the blow. For a moment the other man is speechless with fury and Malcolm holds his breath, sick with fear, waiting for the inevitable.

It's far worse than usual.

Archer produces a whip he's never seen before and beats him with his full strength, taking savage delight in hearing Malcolm fail to swallow his cries, as harsh leather cords bite into his skin. Every blow feels like it's ripping his back open and it's soon a mess of red lines, most of which are bleeding.

When he eventually tires himself, he pushes his legs apart and takes him hard, without mercy.

Malcolm can barely stand up straight when Archer's finished with him, but he forces himself to walk naturally back to his quarters. He slumps on the cold floor under the shower, biting back a scream when the hot water hits his back, until the timer cuts it off. Even then he doesn't move, shivering as the water cools on his body, broken sobs forcing their way from his chest.

Eventually he crawls into bed and sleeps fitfully, plagued with nightmares and the feeling that something is in the room, watching him.

* * *

His alarm wakes him to an immediate, excruciating pain and he realises with mounting panic how difficult it's going to be to hide his injuries. He dresses slowly, biting his lips hard to stop himself crying out when the fabric drags against his broken skin.

He can't face running the gauntlet of the mess hall and so he goes straight to the armoury to begin some upgrades, longing for the distraction of his work.

His throat tightens when Hayes walks in some time later and heads purposefully towards his office. He's carrying a mug of coffee and a sandwich, which he places on the desk.

"I noticed you weren't in the mess hall this morning. Thought you might not have eaten." 

His tone is mildly reproachful, but Malcolm can still hear the underlying concern. Hayes' intention with this gesture is clear, so like everything Malcolm has secretly longed for, that the realisation of what he's losing is like a physical pain.

He says nothing and Hayes looks at him more closely.

"Malcolm you don't look well. Perhaps you should go to sickbay."

"I'm fine," Malcolm snaps back, turning away from the flash of hurt he sees in his eyes, "I'm very busy _Major_ , if you don't mind."

The use of his title causes Hayes to frown.

"I do mind." 

He looks annoyed now and he settles his weight against Malcolm's desk, folding his arms. Malcolm feels panic rising in his chest, desperate to get Hayes to leave before Archer gets wind of it.

"You've been acting strangely for weeks. I'm concerned-"

"I'm perfectly capable of doing my job," Malcolm snarls, hoping his show of anger, however much it's hurting him to do it, will be enough to drive the other man away. Enough to protect him from _this._

"Now if you'll kindly leave my office, I can get on with it!"

Hayes' jaw tightens and he stares Malcolm down, but he must see something in his face as an odd look begins to creep into his eyes. Malcolm drops his gaze, busying himself organising stacks of reports on his desk, but his hands are visibly shaking.

"Fine."

His voice is quiet and he leaves the small office without further protest. Malcolm's whole body sags as soon as he's alone and he collapses into his chair, waiting for his heart to stop racing. Hayes has left the food and coffee he brought, and Malcolm traces his fingers over the handle of the mug almost reverently.

He doesn't notice Hayes, stood at the door to the armoury, watching him thoughtfully.

Malcolm's shift finishes, but he stays, working on some delicate re-calibrations. The repetitive work sends him into an almost meditative state and he feels calmer for the first time all day. 

The bleep of the comm shatters his reverie and he hears Hayes' voice, suddenly remembering he's supposed to be helping him supervise the training session. He apologises to Hayes and hurries to his quarters to change, already late and cursing himself for becoming so distracted.

When he arrives at the gym, he takes his place beside Hayes and watches in silence as crew members spar in pairs around them. The session passes without incident, Malcolm allowing Hayes to take the lead, grateful to have nothing more complicated to do than watch from the sidelines. At the end Hayes dismisses the other occupants of the room, but gestures for Malcolm to remain, which he does reluctantly.

"You want to give it a go?"

Hayes gestures to the mats and Malcolm gathers he means sparring practice.

"Not tonight. I'm very tired."

"Alright," Hayes says offhandedly, beginning to gather up the mats. Malcolm goes to help him and he gives him a penetrating look.

"Then perhaps you could tell me what's got you so afraid."

Malcolm drops the mat as if it's scalded him. He snatches it up again quicky, but he knows he's already given himself away. Still he feigns ignorance.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Hayes deliberately pulls the mat away from him, discarding it to one side and coming to a stop squarely in front of him. Malcolm's eyes dart around desperately for an escape, but Hayes is too close. The other man speaks softly and gently, as if he's attempting to soothe a frightened animal.

"Malcolm," his head jerks up at the tenderness in his voice.

"This morning in your office, you looked like you had a gun to your head. I was watching you when I left, something is frightening you."

He pauses and looks Malcolm in the eyes.

"Is it me?"

"I'm not afraid of you."

Malcolm means to snap back at him, but what comes out is more of a desperate plea. He steps back, trying to put some space between them, but Hayes follows him.

"Someone else then."

"Just stay the fuck away from me."

The panic is so unmistakable in his voice that Hayes is momentarily caught off guard. Malcolm takes the chance to push past him and escape, but Hayes recovers and puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

He presses against his injuries and Malcolm cries out at the sudden excruciating pain it causes. Hayes lets go in shock and he stumbles, feeling blood beginning to seep through his shirt, before righting himself and fleeing the gym without looking back.

He collapses to the floor when he reaches his quarters, fighting for breath. It takes a long time for him to calm himself down and it's some time before he drags himself up and into the shower.

The water against his back is still agonising, but Malcolm knows he has to make at least some effort to keep the wounds clean. There's no chance of him being able to have them treated by Phlox.

He half expects the chime on his door to go, but it doesn't. Hayes appears to have accepted defeat for tonight. Malcolm finds himself hoping, alone in the darkness, that he won't give up that easily.

* * *

The next day, Malcolm is forced to put in an appearance on the bridge and feels the unwelcome weight of Archer's gaze on him for much of his shift.

He's careful to behave normally, to give no-one a reason to suspect anything and manages to answer the questions Archer occasionally directs at him in his usual crisp, professional manner.

Only he can see the smirk playing around the other man's lips, enjoying Malcolm's discomfort thoroughly. When it's time for the shift to change, Archer casually requests that they discuss a report in his ready room.

Malcolm feels sinking dread in his stomach, but he has no choice other than to agree, forcing a cheerful response to the other members of the bridge staff who call out their goodbyes.

In his ready room, Archer lets the mask drop and Malcolm fixes his gaze at the wall, waiting to hear what he wants with him now.

Archer grasps his chin between his thumb and finger, tipping his head back slightly and forcing Malcolm to look at him. He's smirking, which Malcolm notes with a strange feeling of relief. Perhaps, at least, he won't beat him this time.

"What a lot of friends you have, Malcolm." His voice is soft, but laced with a subtle venom that Malcolm has become accustomed to.

"Do you think they'd still like you if they knew the truth?"

The grip on his chin tightens.

"If they could see what I see?"

He remains silent and Archer's face darkens.

"I asked you a question Malcolm."

"No, Sir." 

He chokes the words out past the sudden lump in his throat. Archer is right, he believes it. If he lets anyone find out about what he's done, what he's allowed Archer to do, they'll loathe him as much as he loathes himself.

The smirk is back on his face, cruel light dancing in his eyes.

"He'll never want you now, will he?"

Malcolm gasps like he's been punched and almost wishes he had. A blow to his stomach might have hurt less.

Archer sees the stricken look on his face and laughs, the sound of it low and dark. He lowers the zip of Malcolm's uniform and pushes the top of it off his shoulders.

"Without me you're worth nothing, Malcolm. Don't forget that."

* * *

That night he's in too much pain to sleep. In the morning when he looks in the mirror, he sees dark circles under his eyes. His face looks especially gaunt and Malcolm thinks he's probably losing weight.

Once again he avoids the mess hall all day, surviving on some ration bars he keeps in his office and coffee his staff bring periodically when they go on their own breaks.

He's alone in the armoury, working late, when Hayes puts in an appearance. Perhaps the only person as stubborn as Malcolm himself, he's carrying a plate of food again. 

"Your staff informed me you haven't taken a break to eat all day." 

Malcolm feels a confusing mess of feelings welling up inside. He knows that every time Hayes comes here it puts them both in increasing danger and yet he feels an overwhelming longing for him to stay. 

"Malcolm," Hayes sounds desperate in a way he's never heard from him before.

"Someone is hurting you, I know it."

"I'm fine." 

Even to his own ears it's hollow and unconvincing.

"You screamed when I touched your back! There was blood everywhere!"

Hayes' voice raises and he takes hold of Malcolm's forearms, but he does so gently as if he's afraid of hurting him again.

"Do I need to take this to Captain Archer?"

Hayes words send him into a spiralling panic and he finds himself pleading with him between increasingly rapid breaths, until he's barely able to draw breath at all.

"No! Jay, no, please. Please, you can't, not Archer, you can't, please."

His legs give way, but Hayes doesn't let go of his arms, instead guiding them both to the floor. Even then he keeps his grip on him and begins to speak in a low, calm voice.

"Malcolm, look at me. Look at me." 

Malcolm does as he's told, raising his eyes to Hayes' which are warm and creased with concern.

"You're having a panic attack. You need to breathe deeply, ok. Just breathe. You're alright, I've got you. Just breathe."

He sits quietly with him, murmuring soft words of encouragement, and waits until Malcolm is drawing in long, shuddering breaths.

"It's Captain Archer, isn't it?" He says softly.

"He's hurting you."

Malcolm tries to pull his arms from Hayes' grip but he doesn't let go and the strain on his back is too much. Hayes sees the pain written plainly across his face. 

"Stop, please. I can't."

Malcolm's voice comes out as a whisper and he feels tears begin to run down his cheeks. Hayes let's go of one of his arms, reaching his hand up to brush them away tenderly.

"Malcolm...let me help you."

He lets his head drop, face burning with shame, harsh sobs spilling from his lips. He can't let the other man see what he's allowed Archer to do to him, he's sure when he sees his weakness he'll be abhorred by him.

"I can't. You don't understand, I can't."

Hayes puts a hand under his chin, bringing his head back up, but unlike when Archer does it he is gentle. Instead of rage or malice in his eyes, Malcolm sees love. He closes his own eyes feeling fresh tears leaking out and wetting his eyelashes.

He feels the warmth of the other man's skin as he rests his forehead against Malcolm's. He clutches at Hayes' arms, left bare by his t-shirt, silently pleading for the man to ground him.

The hand under his chin shifts to cup his face gently.

"Let me help you." 

He whispers it gently, but it breaks the spell and Malcolm turns his face away.

"I can't. If you knew what I've done...you wouldn't want this."

His voice cracks.

"I'm worthless. Disgusting."

"That's not true. That's someone else filling your head with shit." 

Warm, calloused fingers trace his cheekbone. When Malcolm turns his face back, Hayes is looking at him steadily, understanding shining in his eyes.

"Will you at least let me see your back? See how bad the damage is?"

Malcolm shakes his head frantically, fear swelling up inside him, pulling away from Hayes and staggering to his feet. He tries to leave but the other man is quicker, blocking the door to the armoury.

"Those injuries are serious Malcolm, they need treating."

He steps closer.

"I would never do anything to hurt you."

Conflicted, Malcolm struggles to think clearly. Everything in his head is screaming at him to keep the secret he's been protecting for months, to hide his shame from the person he can least bear to see it. 

He's terrified of what Archer will do if he finds out, but having Hayes in front of him, looking at him as if he's the most precious thing in the world, confuses him. A moment ago, everything he has dreamed of seemed so close and he wants to feel the other man's touch on his skin again.

Slowly his hands go to the zip on his uniform, lowering it so he can push the heavy blue jumpsuit off his shoulders. Hayes watches silently, letting Malcolm take the time he needs. He removes the black undershirt and feels his heart begin to pound and his breath shorten. 

"It's ok," Hayes says soothingly, "you're ok, just breathe."

Malcolm takes a few steadying breaths before finally going to remove his blue t-shirt. He realises that some of his wounds have bled through the material and stuck to it. He bites his lip hard to stop himself gasping with the pain of pulling it free. He's still facing Hayes, his back hidden from view, but he knows he has seen the blood-streaked shirt in his hand.

His shoulders slump in shame and he hangs his head, feeling vulnerable and horribly exposed. Hayes moves away from the door, satisfied that he won't try to bolt half-clothed and steps behind him.

He's an experienced soldier, accustomed to dealing with the wounds that come along with it, and so he takes in Malcolm's injuries without a fuss. The silence is deafening and Malcolm waits to hear the sound of him leaving.

He turns him gently and Malcolm buries his face in his hands, hiding himself from Hayes' scrutiny. His body is wracked with fresh sobs as months of constant fear and self-loathing overwhelm him.

"Did Captain Archer do this to you?" 

His voice is tightly controlled, as if he's trying to suppress his fury. Malcolm gives a tiny nod.

"Jesus Christ Malcolm! Why?"

"Because I allowed him to!" 

His pent up rage, now it finally has an outlet, is so intense it frightens him, but he can't stop the words from tumbling out.

"This is all my fault! I conspired with Harris, I put everyone in danger. And when Captain Archer asked what I would do to redeem myself, I let him have my body. I let him fuck me just so I could keep my job."

He looks at Hayes' with wild eyes.

"Everything he says is true, don't you understand? I'm a disgrace to my position. I don't deserve to be on this ship. I'm disgusting."

He stops suddenly, breathing hard and his next words are so quiet Hayes has to strain to hear them.

"I don't deserve any of this. I don't deserve to be loved."

Instead of walking away, Hayes steps into his personal space and Malcolm doesn't resist, letting Hayes take his face in his hands and tilt his head towards him. He feels the first tiny flicker of hope in his chest.

"He's abusing you. Malcolm, do you understand that? He blackmailed you and now he's abusing you. None of this is your fault."

"He gave me a choice."

"That wasn't a choice. Doing something because someone threatens you, makes you afraid of what will happen if you don't...that's not consent."

Hayes brushes a lock of hair from his brow, his thumb caressing his skin and Malcolm finds himself leaning into his touch.

"You aren't disgusting or a disgrace." He whispers and he's so close now that Malcolm feels his breath brushing his lips.

"I love you, Malcolm Reed. And all this? It doesn't change that."

He closes the remaining distance between them, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels like it steals the air from his lungs. Malcolm makes a small noise of pleasure in the back of his throat, opening his mouth, allowing the other man to deepen the kiss.  
Eventually Hayes pulls away and looks at him seriously.

"I'll never let him hurt you again, I swear."

He takes Malcolm's hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over his knuckles.

"I know you won't like this, but I need you to let me take you to sickbay."

He stops Malcolm's protest with a gentle finger on his lips.

"I understand that you're scared. I know this is going to be hard. If I could treat them by myself I would, but they're already infected."

He lets go of his hands, picking up the black undershirt and holding it up to help Malcolm back into it. 

Malcolm turns the situation over in his mind. The exhaustion of months of carrying his burden feels like it's hit him all at once. He realises with sudden clarity that he's very tired of hiding. 

They decide not to take the risk of using the comm system to contact Phlox, unsure of just how closely Archer might be watching. It's late enough that the corridors are empty and they pass to sickbay unseen.

Phlox is surprised to see them, his cheerful smile faltering when he takes in their expressions and the protective stance Hayes has taken beside Malcolm.

"Doctor, we need your help." Hayes says simply.

"But it has to be strictly off-record."

He pulls Malcolm gently to sit on the nearest bed and gestures towards Phlox's office. They disappear inside and when they emerge again, Phlox looks grave. He comes to stand by Malcolm and rests a hand on his arm.

"I understand the need for absolute discretion in this matter, Lieutenant. You have my word."

Malcolm hasn't seen his back, truthfully he couldn't bear to even try and look, but the sharp intake of breath when Phlox examines it tells him just how bad it must be.

A hypospray is pressed against his neck and the pain that has become his constant companion is suddenly gone. Relief floods through him as he feels himself relax for the first time in months.

It's some time before Phlox has finished cleaning and dressing the wounds. When he does, he comes around the bed to speak to Malcolm and his face looks troubled.

"Lieutenant, my scans indicate you have other...internal injuries that require treatment."

His voice is low and kind.

"I understand this must be very difficult for you. I will try to be as swift as possible."

Seeing the tension in his body, Hayes is at his side immediately. He goes to sit at the head of the bed, one leg crossed and the other hanging of the side.

Hayes helps him to lie down, cradling his head in his lap. Malcolm feels uncontrollable tremors running through his body and Hayes strokes his hair softly, rubbing soothing circles on the back of his neck with his other hand.

Malcolm makes no sound as Phlox examines and treats his other injuries, but silent tears stream down his cheeks.

When he's finished, Phlox gathers the necessary pain relief for him to take over the coming days, handing the small bundle to Hayes who tucks it safely into his pockets. Phlox takes the bloodstained shirt, promising to dispose of it discreetly to avoid suspicion.

Malcolm is virtually non-responsive, everything feeling like it's happening very far away and Hayes half-carries him to his quarters, which are closer.

Hayes' cabin is similar to his own, with few personal possessions on display. He helps Malcolm out of his uniform and into the small bunk, pressing a kiss to his temple before beginning to pull away. Malcolm takes hold of his arm to delay him, desperate not to be left alone.

"Stay...please?"

Hayes strips off his shirt and trousers and joins him in the bed. It's not designed for two men and leaves them pressed close together, but Malcolm feels comforted by Hayes' solid warmth against him. That night he sleeps deeply and the nightmares don't come.

* * *

Hayes receives a message from Phlox early in the morning, telling him he's advised the Captain that Malcolm is sick. It will be interesting to see what the Captain does with this information, Hayes thinks to himself.

Malcolm is still sleeping when Hayes is ready to leave for his own shift, but he leaves him a quick note on a PADD. He's already made a run to the mess hall to get some breakfast for whenever he wakes, thanking his lucky stars he was early enough for only a few sleepy crewman to be there.

He goes to the armoury and feigns surprise at Malcolm's absence, although he's aware their ruse will fail regardless if Archer decides to go looking for Malcolm. 

Hayes spends his shift turning the situation over in his mind and planning what he's going to do about Archer. He needs to tread carefully to ensure that both Malcolm and Phlox are fully protected from the other man's inevitable wrath.

The idea comes to him as he's working on the duty roster for his team and he makes a show of going on his break, slipping away quietly to see Phlox.

With everything in place, he comms Archer from the armoury and requests a meeting when his shift ends, claiming he wants to discuss some ideas he has for amending security protocols. The Captain agrees, telling him to come to his ready room. Hayes smiles grimly to himself as he works, steeling himself for the confrontation he knows is coming.

When he arrives, Archer is stood behind his desk, drumming his fingers impatiently. He looks to be in a bad mood and Hayes keeps his face carefully impassive.

"Take a seat Major." Archer says, but Hayes doesn't move.

"I'd prefer to remain standing for this if you don't mind, Sir."

Archer turns to look at him sharply and Hayes takes quiet satisfaction in the bewildered look he's trying to hide.

He steps around the desk slowly, backing the other man into the corner. Archer is slightly taller but Hayes is broader and he uses his bulkier frame to his advantage.

"I didn't come here to talk about security protocols, Captain."

Hayes lets undisguised menace slip into his voice and Archer swallows hard, although he is trying to appear unintimidated.

"I came to talk about how you beat and raped a member of this crew."

Even backed against the wall as he is, Archer apparently can't resist taunting him.

"Is that what he told you Major? I think you should ask him for the truth. He spread his legs for me happily."

"Liar!" 

Hayes yells the word into his face, driving his fist into Archer's stomach with his full strength. The older man grunts in pain, doubling over. He raises his head enough to fix Hayes with a look of cold hatred.

"I'll have you court-martialed for that _Major_." 

"You won't." Hayes' voice is deadly calm now. "I'm not the only one who knows what you've done."

"Phlox treated Malcolm last night. He's already sent extensive details of his injuries, and a report that shows traces of your semen in his body, to a contact at Starfleet."

He pauses, letting the information sink in before he delivers his next blow.

"Here's how this is going to go, _Captain_. You do anything to harm Malcolm's career, you do anything to harm Phlox's career, everything goes to Starfleet Command."

Archer is silent and he sees genuine fear in his eyes, but Hayes isn't finished with him yet. He grabs him by the throat and hauls him back against the wall, his mouth inches from his ear.

"Listen to me, you sadistic son of a bitch. If you put one hand on Malcolm ever again, if you so much as _look_ at him the wrong way-"

He looks him dead in the eye so there will be no mistaking that he means every word and tightens his hold on his throat, cutting off the air completely.

"I will kill you."

He leaves Archer slumped against the wall, without waiting for a response.

* * *

Malcolm wakes to find himself alone in Hayes' quarters, a sinking feeling of dread hanging over him. He finds his note, telling him the cover story that Phlox has spread and advising him to stay in Hayes' cabin to avoid any suspicion.

He eats the food Hayes has left and takes his medications as instructed by Phlox, but alone without a distraction, the events of the previous night crowd his mind, filling him with horror. He's repulsed by the thought of his own weakness, the memory of crying in front of Hayes and Phlox deeply humiliating.

He resolves that when Hayes returns he must leave. There's an ache of regret in his chest when he remembers the feeling of the other man's lips against his, but he forces it away, remaining firm in his decision.

Malcolm knows he does not deserve to be loved by someone like Jeremiah Hayes. He just has to make him see that too.

He's lost in his thoughts when the door opens and it startles him. Hayes has a powerful aura of anger surrounding him, but he smiles when he sees Malcolm curled up on the bed.

He comes to sit next to him, and raises a hand to brush gently through his hair, the touch sending a pleasant shiver down Malcolm's spine.

"There's something I need to tell you Malcolm," he says quietly.

"I went to see Archer just now."

Malcolm feels his heart lurch sickeningly and Hayes must sense his sudden anxiety because he rubs his neck soothingly, the same way he had done in sickbay.

"It's ok Malcolm."

He cups his face, turning his head gently until Malcolm is looking in his eyes.

"He's never going to hurt you again."

"What have you done?" Malcolm whispers, half afraid of the answer.

There's a long silence, before he speaks in a low voice, as if he's wary of Malcolm's reaction.

"I told him Phlox had sent reports of your injuries to a friend of mine in Starfleet. That there was enough...evidence to prove it was him. I told him if he did anything to you, or Phlox, it would go straight to Starfleet Command."

He takes his hand from Malcolm's face and brings both to rest in his lap, staring down at them for a moment before he speaks again.

"Then I held him against the wall by his throat and told him if he ever touched you again I would kill him."

He raises his head to meet Malcolm's eyes and Malcolm suddenly understands why Hayes had seemed so angry when he arrived. He's come straight from Archer's ready room.

Hayes' words sink in and he feels a wave of fresh humiliation. He stares at the standard issue bedding and says nothing. 

"There were no reports, Malcolm. No-one knows anything except Phlox." 

It's as if Hayes has read his mind and he jerks his head up so fast it hurts.

"I would never betray your trust like that. I just needed Archer to believe you were untouchable."

"You shouldn't have done this."

Malcolm gets up from the bed and begins to pace the room frantically. His mind is reeling with emotions he doesn't know how to process and he feels panic mounting in his chest. He hears his breathing becoming ragged and finds he's wringing his hands, his body feeling like it's been pumped full of adrenaline that has nowhere to go.

"I'm not worth this! I don't deserve this!"

His voice rises increasingly in volume as he becomes more and more worked up.

"I'm weak. That's why this happened to me. It's all my fault because I'm weak and I'm a liar. I put Enterprise in danger, I deserved this."

"No." 

Hayes is on his feet now, his hands on Malcolm's shoulders, forcing him to stop. Malcolm turns his face away, unable to look him in the eyes.

"You are not weak. You made a mistake and then you made it right. You didn't deserve to be violently abused for that Malcolm."

Malcolm feels Hayes slide his hand up his neck until it comes to rest at the base of his skull. He pulls him closer gently, resting their foreheads together in a gesture that Malcolm finds calming.

"You are the strongest person I've met in my life. I know you would die before you'd let anything happen to this crew."

Malcolm closes his eyes and concentrates on the feeling of the other man's touch on his skin, setting his nerves on fire.

"You survived this because you're strong Malcolm Reed. Letting someone else help you doesn't change that."

His eyes, when Malcolm finally meets them, are fierce with his sincerity. His gaze burns into him and sends him weak at the knees. 

"Jay," he whispers his name and Hayes draws in a sharp breath, his eyes darkening.

And then his lips capture Malcolm's in a deep, passionate kiss. Malcolm clings to the broad shoulders and the hand that's not cradling his head moves to his waist, Hayes' arm wrapping around him and pulling him tightly against his body.

He kisses him until he's lightheaded and then his lips move to the rest of his face, laying gentle kisses on his cheekbones and eyelids. Malcolm brings his fingers to rest at the open collar of his jacket and he feels the solid muscle of Hayes' chest under his hands.

"I'm not afraid of this."

Hayes murmurs the words into the scant space between them.

"I'm not disgusted by you, I don't think you're worthless because of what that bastard did."

He kisses him again softly.

"I want to help you heal. Show you that you deserve to be loved."

Hayes breaks away from their embrace, guiding Malcolm to sit back on the bed with him and taking both his hands. Malcolm senses that he has more to say, and so he waits for him to speak again.

"I know it won't be easy, but I _want_ to be at your side through it. I want to be the one who has your back, always."

"I'll be nothing but a burden to you," Malcolm says softly, but Hayes shakes his head.

"You'll never be a burden to me."

* * *

Malcolm wakes from another nightmare, his whole body shaking. They've become increasingly frequent, but this is now the third night in a row and he feels frustration welling up.

Beside him, Hayes rolls to face him, having evidently been disturbed too. 

"Mal," his voice is thick with sleep, "you have a nightmare again?"

He puts a hand on Malcolm's arm and must feel the shaking, because he moves his larger body to cover him. They've found that the weight helps to ground him and Malcolm welcomes the solid warmth of his lover. Hayes props himself on his elbows, his arms either side of Malcolm's head and even without the lights, Malcolm can see the gleam of his eyes.

Hayes whispers softly to him as he always does when Malcolm wakes them like this, reassuring him that he is safe.

"Just a dream Mal, ok? You're here with me. Nothing bad is happening."

"I'm sorry Jay." 

"Don't be, it's not your fault." 

Malcolm just gives an irritated sigh and Hayes reaches up a hand to stroke his hair back from his face.

"I know you're frustrated, but it'll get better. Phlox said it would take time, remember?"

Malcolm knows that Hayes understands the real reason for his bitterness at the continued effects of his abuse. It makes him feel weak, because Malcolm was not brought up to indulge in his emotions. He hates himself for struggling, for burdening others with his problems. He hates the panic attacks that come often, with little warning, hates how helpless they make him feel.

In his head he hears his father's voice, calling him a coward, a weakling. A disgrace to the Reed name. He hears Archer, jeering at him, telling him he's worthless and disgusting. 

Dealing with his feelings towards Archer proves to be especially difficult. Malcolm's heart races whenever the other man enters the room and when he's forced to be on the bridge his knuckles are white from his grip on the console.

Archer is careful to behave normally, but Malcolm still sees the malice in his eyes whenever he looks at him. It's worst when he's forced to be alone with him, although he tries to avoid it whenever possible.

Archer doesn't try to touch him, no longer even taunts him, but Malcolm finds he flinches instinctively at any movement the other man makes. Just the sight of his face is enough to stir memories that have Malcolm running for the nearest secluded space, when he's finally able, shaking and struggling to draw breath.

When he first tells Hayes this, exhausted and sick with self-loathing, coming out the other side of yet another panic attack, Hayes holds him for a long time and Malcolm feels the tension in his body. He looks into his eyes and understands suddenly that the other man is struggling with his own feelings of powerlessness. At his heart he is a soldier, accustomed to being able to act in the face of his enemy.

Hayes never pushes Malcolm to talk about the abuse, but he makes it clear that he _can_ if he wants to. Malcolm finds it easier to talk at night, the cover darkness lending him a feeling of security and so they often lie awake for hours.

Malcolm waits for the other man to tire of it, to decide he's not worth the trouble, but Hayes simply stays awake as long as he needs him too, listening quietly and soothing him when the memories become too painful.

The day after Malcolm reveals he'd never had sex with a man before Archer, Hayes disappears and Malcolm thinks he's finally come to his senses and left. He finds him late that night in the gym, pounding his fists into the punch bag viciously.

He stops to watch him for a moment, the raw power of his body taking his breath away. Hayes catches sight of him in the mirror and steps back, dropping his hands to his side, breathing hard.

"What did that poor bag ever do to you?" 

It's a weak joke, trying to cover his anxiety, but Hayes huffs out a small laugh anyway.

"Just working out some frustration."

He cups the back of Malcolm's head, drawing him in for a kiss. Malcolm feels the knot in his stomach unwind, almost lightheaded with relief. Hayes hasn't decided he's done with him, a fact which becomes very clear when he pulls Malcolm even closer.

When he eventually breaks away, the troubled look on his face still remains and Malcolm brings his hand to rest on the side of his face.

"Jay, what's the matter?"

Hayes looks reluctant to speak and Malcolm feels his anxiety rising again. It must show on his face because the other man reaches up a hand to stroke his hair.

"It's about what you said last night," Hayes admits honestly.

"I just keep thinking about how much I want to smash his face into the wall."

He looks him in the eye.

"I want to kill him for what he did Mal."

"I'm not worth the time in prison."

He means it as a joke, but Hayes doesn't laugh and when he speaks his voice has an intensity that Malcolm hasn't heard before.

"You _are_ Mal. I don't care if you don't see it, you are. I'd fucking _die_ for you."

Malcolm draws in a sharp breath at his words and something in Hayes seems to snap. Before he can react, the other man has him pushed up against the wall. He kisses him hungrily and Malcolm can't help the moan that escapes his throat.

That seems to bring Hayes back to himself and he pulls away with a look of surprise at his own behaviour which quickly turns into guilt. He goes to step away but Malcolm stops him, clutching at the sides of his tank top and pulling him back against his body.

Reassured that he hasn't overstepped a boundary, Hayes laces their fingers together, lifting his arms so that Malcolm's hands are pinned on either side of his head. He kisses him again, so deeply that Malcolm is lightheaded at the lack of oxygen and he feels desire pooling in his belly.

So far they've gone no further than sharing long, slow kisses that leave his body heavy and aching with longing. As much as he's wanted to, Malcolm knows he isn't ready for any more of the physical side of their relationship yet.

He had worried that Hayes would grow tired of waiting, but the other man seems to have unlimited patience. The few times he has mentioned anything about it, Hayes simply stated that he's allowed to take as long as he needs to heal. 

Pinned against the wall as he is now, his lover's larger body hard against him, Malcolm thinks he'd happily let the other man take him right here. Then Archer walks through the door of the gym and Malcolm instantly goes rigid, his heart pounding wildly.

Hayes notices the change in him immediately. He pulls back and seeing the distress in his face, follows the line of Malcolm's horrified stare. 

His face darkens instantly and he turns to face Archer, placing himself protectively in front of Malcolm. Archer moves closer to them and Malcolm sees that the mask is off.

"That was a very clever trick you pulled, Major" he says conversationally.

"I confess, you had me convinced." 

He pauses and smirks, and the sight of it sends cold fear clawing through Malcolm's stomach.

"Of course then I paid Doctor Phlox a little visit."

"If you've done anything-" Hayes growls and Archer's smirk widens.

"You'll do...what exactly, Major? Assault your commanding officer again?"

He takes another step closer and Malcolm sees the now familiar malicious gleam in his eyes, sending a chill down his spine.

"You didn't think I'd forget about that did you? I'd be giving some consideration to your next career if I was you."

He's controlling it well, but Malcolm can tell that Hayes is practically vibrating with rage. He remembers their earlier conversation and thinks he might actually make good on his desire to murder the captain if this goes any further. 

Gently he places a hand on Hayes shoulder, who turns to look at him. Malcolm presses a soft, lingering kiss to his lips and then steps around him, ignoring his protest.

His heart is racing and he feels a cold sweat breaking out over his body, but he doesn't stop until he's face to face with Archer.

Sensing victory Archer grabs his wrist, dragging him against him. Hayes goes to intervene but Malcolm puts out a hand to stop him.

"Jay, don't. Please."

He meets Archer's triumphant eyes with a steady gaze, determined not to show any sign of fear.

"You win Captain," he says quietly. "I'll do whatever you want. Just please don't hurt Jay."

"Mal, don't do this." Hayes' voice is pleading, desperate, but he remains where he is.

"Promise me?" He says fiercely. "If I do what you want, you'll leave him alone?"

"I knew you'd come crawling back."

Archer is taunting him, but he doesn't react, continuing to meet his eyes calmly.

"There is nothing I wouldn't do to protect the man I love." 

The smirk on the other man's face falters slightly and it gives Malcolm the strength he needs.

"And there's nothing you can do to me that I haven't already survived."

He turns to look at Hayes and the agony on his face breaks his heart.

"You were wrong Captain," he says, eyes still fixed on his lover.

"He wanted me, even after everything you did. I told him everything and he still loved me."

He turns back to Archer.

"Whatever you do, you can never take that away from me." 

Archer drops his wrist suddenly, as if it's burnt him. He looks stunned, his jaw working soundlessly as if he is trying to speak, but nothing is coming out.

Hayes is at Malcolm's side in a heartbeat, placing himself between them, but his protection is unnecessary. Archer turns on his heel and leaves without another word.

Malcolm feels himself begin to shake uncontrollably, adrenaline still pumping through his veins and Hayes takes him in his arms, holding him so tightly there's no space left between their bodies.

He buries his head in Hayes' neck, inhaling the comforting smell of the other man and gradually feels his heart begin to stop racing.

He expects Hayes to be angry with him, but the other man simply presses soft kisses into his hair and when there's finally enough space between them for him to see his eyes, he's looking at him with unabashed reverence.

"Malcolm Reed," he breathes, arms still circling his waist, "I'm going to love you for the rest of my damn life."

Malcolm feels like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Facing down his abuser has left him with a heady sense of power. For all his efforts, Archer hasn't broken him. Malcolm has survived.

That night Hayes makes love to him for the first time. It's slow and tender, and the intensity of it leaves him with tears in his eyes. Hayes kisses them away softly, telling him that he is so beautiful, so perfect and then he moves deep inside him and Malcolm cries out in ecstasy.

Lying together afterwards, he looks at the man he has dreamed of so many times, his strong arms holding Malcolm in an unspoken promise, and feels like he has the entire universe at his feet.

**Author's Note:**

> This work became an absolute monster that has literally consumed every spare minute of my time, but I have absolutely no regrets.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I really hope you enjoyed it! Please feel free to leave a comment, your feedback is always welcome.


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